


Thicker Than Water

by SpitfireRose



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Adopted Sibling Relationship, Adoption, Angst and Feels, Angst with a Happy Ending, Bathing/Washing, Big Brother Prompto AU, Brother-Sister Relationships, Brotherhood AU, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Hospitals, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Child Neglect, Little Sisters, Older Sibling Acting As Parental Figures, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Poor Prompto Argentum, Protective Older Brothers, Sibling Bonding, Sickfic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-19
Updated: 2018-06-01
Packaged: 2019-04-24 20:54:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,901
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14363463
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SpitfireRose/pseuds/SpitfireRose
Summary: Prompto wants nothing more than a puppy for his birthday solely because he can’t stand being alone anymore. Instead what he gets is a baby sister, and not even the acknowledgement that he’s now ten years old.(A Brotherhood AU where everything is the same except Prompto has a little sister he'd give everything for, but can't do it all alone.)





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Yet another self-indulgent drabble-turned-fic to the prompt of "You're not alone in this" as requested from noodle-of-sunshine. I hope you enjoy :D

Prompto wants nothing more than a puppy for his birthday solely because he can’t stand being alone anymore. Instead what he gets is a baby sister, and not even the acknowledgement that he’s now ten years old.

The squirmy bundle of blankets isn’t really his sister according to the documents just like his that’re stowed away in the firebox safe, and he cares for all of two seconds before his adoptive mother hands off the infant into his arms. He doesn’t care when those crystal blue eyes stare up at him and teeny fingers grasp at one of his own. He doesn’t care when the baby babbles at him, and he finds himself cooing back. He doesn’t care that the woman who’s more a stranger than a mother is home longer than she has been in the years he’s counted.

Spero Argentum is his sister.

That’s all he cares about.

* * *

 

It’s near midnight when Prompto finally comes home after closing shop at his third job, grocery bag of off-brand and on sale goods slung over one shoulder with school backpack dangling from the other, swaying as hard as he does on dead feet. He practically collapses while setting them atop the kitchen table, falling hard on the chair with an exhausted sigh. Covering his face with his hands, he runs the numbers in his head, over and over, of how long the basic box dinners last and stretching them out until his next paycheck comes in.

He’s just gotta hang on until their parents’ check comes in to cover utilities - which even then isn’t enough since the landlord raised the rates, but Prompto’s not about to ask for more. They’ve got a roof over their heads, somewhat decent food on the table, and each other. He’s been juggling funds for about seven years now. In another, he can breathe easy at eighteen. Well, easier in that he can legally adopt the only family he has before she’s snatched up by child protective services like in all his nightmares he never really wakes from because the threat never leaves.

Prompto sluggishly rises to his feet to put meager groceries away on empty shelves, relieved to see the sole dirty dish left in the sink as a sign Spero’s eaten. Teaching her how to use the microwave is nothing short of a blessing.

Pulling out bread and a cheap mixture of peanut butter and jelly, he starts making sandwiches for her school lunch tomorrow before finally getting started on his homework. His phone’s alarm wakes him up an hour later, drool plastering his face in the middle of a science book.

* * *

 

Instant oatmeal bubbling away on the stove, the blond shakes his head in poor attempt to fight lingering sleep that holds him like a predator to prey, stifling a yawn while stirring bland oats tasting somewhat like whatever fruit they’re supposed to be. Apple and cinnamon, he remembers, only because Spero said she loved it best. There’s just enough for her, seconds if she wants, and he’ll get what’s left if there’s time to eat. Probably just jam a slice of toast in his mouth and ignore his rumbling stomach until lunch when he can munch on a granola bar.

“It’s not gysahl greens, but it’ll do for my chocobean.” Prompto hums mostly to keep himself awake, waving at the just as tired sleepyhead shuffling into the room with pajamas consisting of one of his old shirts and kid shorts. “Hey, sunshine. The world’s a lot brighter with you up.”

Spero doesn’t say anything as she steps towards him, wrapping little arms around his leg in a hug. Whatever she says is muffled against the limb, and he flips the stove top knob off before kneeling down to her level.

“ _Miss you last night_.” She mumbles sleepily when he gently ruffles her hair, guilt weighing his heart down as it always does.

“I missed you, too, kiddo.” Prompto exhales, hiding how his eyes burn by hugging her and burying his face so she won’t see. That’d been one of his rules, always being home before she’d gone to bed, but thank the Six she’d gotten more sleep than him. The last he wants is for her to grow up in an empty house like he had, visits from their parents few and far in-between. “I’m proud of you for making yourself dinner. You’re such a good helper to your big bro, lil’ sis.”

He waits for her to let go first, smiling a tired smile before ushering her back to sit at the table as he serves up a bowl of oatmeal and glass of milk. Keeping an eye on the clock, he engages her in conversing about school, of her favorite subjects so far and about fellow classmates. She has friends. Friend _s_. Multiple kids her age that _like_ her and _want_ to play with _her_.

Gods, he’s so proud of his baby sister.

“I don’t work at the cafe tonight, so I’ll be home just before bedtime.” Prompto sets the pot into the sink, peering over his shoulder to catch a glimpse of toothy smile delighted by the news.

“Bedtime story night?”

“Of course, chocobean, I promise. Go ahead and pick a book out while you get dressed for school.”

He doesn’t think Spero’s ever scampered off so fast and he can’t help a laugh at how precious she is when she returns not even five minutes later with shirt on backwards, shoes on the wrong feet, and a beaming grin brighter than the sun as she practically tugs him towards the door.

Clothes fixed and backpacks on, Prompto walks her to the bus stop and waits for her to be picked up, hoping for her to have a good day at school before heading off to yet another long one with a skip in his step.

* * *

 

The call comes in the middle of history class, phone vibrating in his uniform pocket that has Prompto snapping up in his seat, totally not caught half-asleep. Noct shoots him an amused look, totally not having been entertaining himself by poking snoozing best friend with pencil. Sneakily taking a peek at the caller ID, he immediately excuses himself to the bathroom, and the Prince vaguely wonders if anything’s wrong. When Prompto comes back a few minutes later completely disheartened, head in hands effectively blocking Noctis out, his smirk is gone.

“Prom?” A blunt object prods his side, followed by another soft whisper of his name. “Hey, Prom? Are you...is everything cool?”

It takes him a moment to respond, a moment to compose himself into pretending everything’s cool like it hasn’t been for his entire life.

“Psshh, yeah, dude. Just the boss asking if I can cover a shift tonight. No big deal.”

“Thought you already were after school?”

Prompto pauses for a second before remembering Noct only knows he works one job and intends on keeping it that way with a forced smile and nod.

“Oh yeah, yeah. Just a, uh, reminder.” He buries his face back in his hands, tugging slightly at disheveled locks. His best friend is certain there’s more to it than that, concerned with how exhausted he looks, more than usual, and upset. “How am I gonna make this up?”

“Dude, we can just hang this weekend, it’s fine.”

It’s not, but Prompto bites his lip with another nod anyway.

He said yes.

* * *

 

The regret was already there when the confirmation involuntarily left his lips as he knew it would. Any chance of picking up hours - to earn a bit of extra cash - he’s there. It’s stupid to work himself so hard when he’s already pushing limits, stretching himself between school and three jobs plus raising little sister. It’s necessary because _somebody_ has to pay the bills, put food on the table, and clothes on Spero’s back since their parents aren’t. Well they are, just not enough, but Prompto can’t fault them for that. Surely they’re doing their best at work, otherwise why else would they be away so frequently.

But he had _promised_.

The regret continues to grow for each passing hour, escalating when clocking out of the camera shop and making the trek over to the cafe but a few blocks away. He should call her. It’d be the right thing to do after making the wrong choice. _Right_ choice.

“ _Prompto!_ ” Spero answers on the first ring as always, but the relief that she’s safe and sound at home does nothing on easing the guilt. It makes it worse. “ _I did my homework and ate dinner and brushed my teeth and put my pjs on!”_

“That’s-That’s good, baby. That’s really good of you.” He takes a deep breath, then another. “I. I. I’m sorry. I’m not going to be home when I promised.”

“ _Oh._ ”

“I’m really sorry, Spero. I’ll make it up to you, I-” _Promise_. “I’ll read you two stories next time, okay?”

“ _Okay_.” Gods, she sounds so accepting. So easily defeated. It’s all his stupid fault. Some big brother he is.

“I love you, chocochick.”

“ _Love you, too, Pom-Pom_.”

* * *

 

It’s a killer shift, or maybe it’s just normal and complicated customers’ orders’ have worn him down into feeling even shittier than he is. The only good thing is that he’s getting paid overtime and the shift manager compensates him with a couple muffins. Spero’s favorite, if it’ll count for anything. He’s got a lot of making up to do.

Prompto doesn’t remember stumbling his way home in the dark, familiar path lit by streetlights and passing cars. His mind wanders, numbers ever whirring in his head. Groceries were bought yesterday, there’s no need to worry about meals just yet. A visit to the laundromat is definitely on the agenda, and a trip to the public library wouldn’t hurt to pick up on some more kids’ books. The pharmacy, too, as a treat to get some of Spero’s photos developed from the disposable camera. At some point he reaches the front steps, swipes the key from under the mat, and unlocks the door to head inside. Nice and empty, just like they’d left it, seemingly unlived in save for treasured drawings on the fridge and framed photos of the siblings as well as a few dusty ones of their parents. A smile ghosts on his weary face, dragging himself further inside to set items aside in the kitchen before heading straight to Spero’s room.

The sight breaks his shattered heart.

She’s asleep, curled up beneath blanket and around precious book clutched in scrawny arms. Dried tear tracks stain little cheeks, breaths labored by stuffy nose and the occasional hitching inhale. Prompto’s sitting on the edge of the bed before he knows it, brushing hazel hair away from her face before cautiously peeling arms off the precious treasure. He re-adjusts the blanket to better tuck her in, and flips to the opening passage.

Prompto reads.

* * *

 

The check hasn’t come in the mail yet.

He counts every crinkled dollar pocketed from tips, rolls up any loose change he can find. It’s like scraping at the bottom of the barrel, if that barrel’s the one thing preventing them from getting evicted onto the streets, or worse, separated. He’s researched enough into adopted families that fall on hard times, of child protective services tearing non-blood-related siblings apart. It’s the only nightmare he has now whenever he closes his eyes and remains when screaming back into consciousness in a cold sweat and tears. Prompto should call their parents, numbers reserved for emergencies only. It’s not an emergency quite yet, he assures himself, he’ll just have to work even harder, sell himself as the happy, smiling, worker who isn’t completely dead inside to earn as many tips as he can at the cafe.

Or he could ask his royal friends for a little financial aid and find a way to pay them back tenfold for helping his sorry ass out.

“ _Hey, so, I’m working, like, a dozen jobs and still suck at paying rent and taking care of my sweet baby sister who I’d die for. Help a buddy out? Please?_ ”

Yeah, no. Definitely not. That’s a one-way ticket to no friends and no house and no more little sister, though he hardly sees all three anymore anyway. At this rate he wouldn’t be surprised if Noct called their friendship off for lack of any interaction outside of school, and undoubtedly including Advisor and Shield as well, positive they’ve only tolerated his presence because of their Prince. Home’s really just a place to sleep at this point, as little to none he manages to get each early morning, and Spero. Six, Spero. He only sees her in the morning, the world’s fastest hour of waking up, eating, getting ready for school, and a silent walk to the bus stop. Prompto wouldn’t be surprised if she hates him as much as he hates himself, but knows it’s not anger in those red-rimmed, sky blue eyes, but sadness, and it hurts more than anything.

At the end of the day, he’s only human and only so thin he can stretch himself to be everywhere at once.

That still doesn’t stop him from taking full responsibility for not noticing the symptoms sooner.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Scare.

 

The call comes just before lunch, interrupting what passes for a conversation with Noctis these days. Prompto’s used to it by now, apologizing profusely before unlocking the screen and expecting to hear one of his managers asking if he minds picking up another shift. Instead it’s a woman’s voice, hastily introducing herself as the nurse at his sister’s school. The phone nearly slips out of his grasp, knees nearly buckling beneath him.

Spero’s ill.

He takes off running, Noct shouting after him with concern that doesn’t reach his ears.

Prompto’s already gone.

* * *

 

He doesn’t come back Wednesday. Not Thursday nor Friday.

Noct texts him, even recruits Ignis and Gladio into pestering the blond into replying.

He doesn’t answer.

* * *

 

There’s barely enough funds to buy children’s medicine when he briefly leaves her side to fetch some from the pharmacy a dozen blocks down the street, sprinting through sprinkling rain as though his life depends on it. It really does, baby sister quite literally his life, the reason why he gets up in the morning and works with all he has to provide her with a better one. What a fuck-up job he’s done so far, taking full responsibility for every cough, sneeze, and round of puking that has her upheaving plain chicken noodle soup and cheap crackers.

The fever’s even worse. It can’t be his imagination that it rises every time he frequently inserts thermometer in her ear. The medicine isn't helping either, and Prompto doesn’t want to think the worst. Maybe it just takes time to kick in, or maybe Spero’s so sick that it’s too late to take effect. Either way, she hates taking it and he doesn’t blame her, gently prompting her to take another dose when the time comes. She’s hardly sleeping, completely miserable and whimpering incoherently when he wipes her forehead with a cool towel. Snuggling together on her small bed doesn’t help, neither does singing lullabies or reading every book they own from the public library. Prompto doesn’t know what to do.

He doesn’t know, _doesn’t know,_ **_doesn’t know_** **.**

He’s all alone.

* * *

 

Prompto’s snatched out of a dreamless doze by thunder crashing overhead, scrambling into alertness while swaying as he stands over the kitchen counter making...making something edible. He’s not entirely certain, brain running on a combination of adrenaline fumes and few minutes’ sleep, no thanks to simple rain evolving into a severe thunderstorm. Any moment now, Spero’ll start wailing for him by cue of booming interruption, never a fan of boisterous squalls, but the cry never comes. Maybe he’s thinking too much into it, the optimist in him believing her to be soundly asleep and dead to the storm brewing around them. The big brother in Prompto has him speed walking to her room, spurred by sizzling lightning illuminating the vacant halls in a flash.

Spero’s on the floor.

She’s not moving, not waking up to his shaking attempts at rousing her, head just listlessly lolling to the side as he gathers her in his arms, blankets and all.

She’s burning up.

Before he can even begin to think of what a terrible idea it is, Prompto cradles her close to his chest, covers her fevered face with the blanket, and races out into the downpour to the nearest hospital.

* * *

 

Prompto’s a mess bursting into the facility, drenched to the bone with precious bundle clutched against him, dry as can be given the conditions. He’s a mess when pleading, screaming, really, for someone, anyone to help her. He’s a mess when the receptionist ran up to assist him before collapsing on weak knees, calling for a nurse for aid.

He doesn’t remember much of the following exchanges, of medical staff retrieving a limp Spero from his arms and transferring her onto a bed to be wheeled through doors he’s not allowed past. It didn’t stop him though, babbling pleas he didn’t recall then and doesn’t now. He doesn’t recognize that it’s a children’s hospital until the same nurse comes back an indeterminate amount of time later with soft assurances and warm blanket because he’s soaked and shivering with no memory of being and doing either. One minute Prompto was rushing in the rain, pushing himself to go even faster while trying so damn hard not to jostle the young charge. The next blink was coming in here, and another to sitting in the waiting room, blanket left untouched because he doesn’t deserve it.

He just holds his face in his hands, curled up small on the seat, and cries.

There’s no way he can afford this.

Their parents are going to find out.

Spero’s going to get taken away.

Forget what’ll happen to him, what’ll happen to _her_.

Prompto just cries and cries and cries.

Then Noct calls his name.

It’s not just him, but Gladio and Ignis, too.

“Uh, hey, guys. What’s up?” It’s all he can do to manage a small smile and casual wave that wouldn’t even convince a blind man that everything’s slightly normal because it’s not. Prompto’s amazed he’s not breaking into a further crisis at the sight of his friends, all three as surprised to see him as he is them.

“What’s up with you?” Noct questions in return, not buying his act for a second with concern bleeding in his voice and out of his entire being. Prompto loves it. He hates it.

“Asked you first.” He didn’t, not really, but the Prince’s Shield steps forward with arms crossed.

“Iris.” Is all Gladio says, giant man looking him over and only making Prompto feel smaller under his stern gaze. Weak and worthless and as pathetic as a cat drowned a hundred times over. “Now you. Spill it, Blondie.”

If ‘spilling it’ is breaking down, that’s the answer they’re going to get as the boy chomps on his bottom lip to delay it for just a moment longer, dwindling pride be damned.

“I. I. It’s Spero.” Clearly he hasn’t made mention of baby sister around them before now with how they all look at him in confusion until the gears begin to click together of all his excused absences and early curfews when hanging out after school to study. “She-She got sick. I-I-It’s all my fault. I didn’t do enough. I wasn’t enough. I don’t _have_ enough.”

“Surely you cannot be to blame for whatever the cause.” Ignis supplies, taking note of his appearance and unused blanket. Beneath rainwater and mud can he recognize the school uniform, Tuesday being the last day he’d attended as informed by a worried Noctis. “Shouldn’t your parents be here somewhere?”

A sad, broken excuse for a laugh slips past his lips before hiding face in hands.

“‘Course not. I’m more her parent than either of them combined.” Prompto spits out bitterly without meaning, though quickly uncaring now that there’s nothing left to lose. He’s lost everything, neglecting to call off his only sources of income - guaranteed to be fired from all three -, and all the homework and tests he’s missed out on in school. Though at the moment he hadn’t given a damn about money over Spero’s failing health, he’s now so painfully aware that he can’t afford any of it and once they find out, they’ll call their parents, call the cops, surely. Then child protective services will come in and he’ll lose her, she’ll lose _him,_ and--

“...gentum? Mr. Argentum? You’re allowed to see her now. If you’d please follow me to Room #23.”

Not needing to be told twice, Prompto near buckles on sore, stiff legs while rising to stand. He’s fucked up so much so far. The least he can do is walk a couple feet. The guys are right behind him, keeping their distance, but he doesn’t notice for all the focus he has on just keeping one foot in front of the other until the nurse stops in front of the room. It’s now he realizes she’s expecting a response, having been telling him something all the while here, but he doesn’t remember. She’s smiling though, and so he takes that as a good sign and just nods.

“If you need anything, don’t hesitate to ask, okay?”

There’s so much he needs it isn’t funny, but Prompto nods again, the quickest answer to get her gone and him inside.

He doesn’t think Spero’s ever been so small, not since that fateful day she was first handed into his arms. She’s just waking up, too, scared and alone in a strange place she doesn’t know. Terror swims in delirious eyes, winning out over drugged confusion, and Prompto makes it to her bedside against better judgement, not giving a single fuck of his dirty, disheveled self making a mess on crisp clean sheets. Spero couldn’t care less, only that her big brother is here as she starts to cry just as he gently holds her, clutching to filthy shirt with all the meager strength she has.

“Ssshh, sshh, baby. I’m here, I’m here.” He whispers in her hair, rocking her slowly as best he’s able.

“ _N-Needles_.” Spero whimpers against him, showing off the IV attached to little arm squished between them.

“Oh, you poor little chick. I’m so sorry I wasn’t here, but I bet you were very brave.” Prompto croons, kissing the top of her head before pulling back slightly to lightly tickle her tummy. “Did they hurt this much?”

“ _N-No_.”

“How ‘bout _this_ much?” He tickles her a little more a little harder, earning a tiny giggle.

“ _No._ ”

“What? Not even _thiiiis_ much?” Spero bursts into laughter as he uses both hands, squealing and squirming as he boops button nose. “That much, huh? Poor, poor little chick. How am I going to make this better?”

She points to treasured chocobo plush left abandoned at her other side, unaware the arcade prize had made the journey from home to here. To be honest, he had had a million other things on his mind at the time, but internally chastises himself anyway for not thinking to bring comforting possession along. Prompto forces a smile, so much easier with how happy she is despite everything as he squeezes the soft toy in between them, gratefully accepted by little girl hugging and snuggling it into her face right away.

At the doorway, Noct and Gladio watch the tender scene between siblings as Ignis pulls the same nurse aside to inform her that they’ll be taking care of the bill. She comes in later to check on Spero, explaining everything beforehand for the little girl’s understanding and permission, all soft touches with medical tools and kind smiles towards tiny patient. Never once does mention of a bill come up, only promises of jello treats during the overnight stay for further observation.

Prompto’s ready to camp it out when suddenly the three come walking in, uncertain just how long they’d been lingering outside.

“Hey.” Noct says first.

“Hey yourself.” Prompto replies back, not at all snappy but rather tiredly, on edge despite crushing exhaustion. His fingers fidget by the lap that Spero’s head occupies, other hand stroking her hair as she sleeps by aid of whatever medicine they’ve got her on. “So, uh. Yeah. You guys haven’t really met, but this is Spero.”

“Cute, but no surprise since you’re her brother.”

“Yeah she is, but we’re, ah, not related.” Prompto swears he imagined the compliment slyly directed at him, chalking it up to strenuous events of the past few days finally catching up to him all at once. “But anyway, you’re all here for Iris, yeah? You, um, don’t have to stay here or anything. I mean, the company’s nice and all, but I’ll be okay.”

“‘Okay’? You look like shit.” Though Gladio’s expression has softened at sight of sleeping sick child, his arms are still crossed where he stands even as stern Advisor shoots him a warning glare and hiss of his full name. “When’s the last time you slept? Ate?”

Prompto can’t answer that right away, lack of both speaking for him as he just blinks while trying to recall when he’d done either. Everything’s a blur that revolved around Spero and what a fine job he’d done of messing that up. The next he knows is that Noct and Ignis have left the room, former dragging the latter with him, and Gladio’s taken his jacket off to cover him with it, uncertain just when he’d laid down next to little sister, feet hanging off the end the bed.

“ _Where’d they go_?”

“Getting something to eat at the cafeteria. Noct’s treat, so don’t start worrying about it. Specs went to make sure it’s up to his standards.”

“ _Oh. Okay_.” Prompto hasn’t the energy to argue, barely has enough to fish phone out of pocket, running on as little battery power as he is.

**‘Spero liks mac-n-chesse bestt :)’**

**‘K. What do u want?’**

**‘Im fne’**

**‘What do you want >:(’**

**‘u pick’**

Noct’s going to have to choose based on that because his phone dies before he can get another frustrated reply from one of the greatest friends in the entire world that he doesn’t deserve. Prompto sighs before shifting to put drained device back only for Gladio to swoop in and pluck it from loose grip.

“Got a charger on me.”

Mumbling what sounds like ‘thanks’, he watches Shield plug it into the nearest available outlet before withdrawing his own phone.

“Jared’s taking Iris home.” Gladio says aloud for Prompto’s obvious concern and before he can protest that he really doesn’t have to stay with him. “Tried climbing up a tree in this mess to get a friend’s backpack. Bullies tossed it up there or something before she chased them off, but yeah, she’s okay. Amicitias’ are tough as nails, so there’s nothing to worry about. Hell, the cast won’t be on that long, either.”

He pauses as though choosing his next words carefully.

“But at the end of the day she’s still my baby sister, you know? So I do worry. Iris is the best thing that’s ever happened to me, kept me going when our mom - she’s special to me, is what I’m saying and I wouldn’t change a thing. She can be a brat and throw tantrums, Six have mercy these next couple years, but I wouldn’t give her up for anything in the world - because she _is_ my world. Judging how you and Sparrow are just by looking at ya, I’m betting we’ve got that instinct in common.”

Prompto nods, managing a teeny smile that conveys how much he understands of the relatable drive to cherish and protect precious siblings that’re their entire world, of that indescribable feeling of being able to do anything for them to make it so. The only difference is that the other so effortlessly can whereas he so pathetically cannot. Gladio won’t lose Iris, but Prompto’s going to lose Spero, he’s sure of it. With the utmost delicacy does he carefully adjust her blankets to better cover frail form, tucking treasured chocobo plush closer into scrawny arms.

The least he can do is be here when she wakes up.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rest.

Ignis offers to drive them home when morning comes and Spero’s deemed well enough to leave, only they don’t go home. They’re taken straight to Noct’s apartment, stopping once for the sick child’s prescription. Prompto should question it, really he should, but he’s so honest-to-gods tired still that he doesn’t. The familiar apartment is more of a home than the empty house waiting for them, and he can’t deny feeling relieved to be here at his best friend’s place. However, he’s not sure what’s expected of him, following Advisor like a lost puppy with napping girl in his arms, led to Noct’s vacant bed to lay her to rest. Prompto should help, should do something, anything, but Ignis is firm with instruction to do nothing, just change into the clothes handed to him and sleep.

So he does.

He doesn’t think he’s slept so much in his collective life, and it should really be worrying because really, there’s things to do like, a list a mile long of numbers to crunch and school to catch up on and jobs to salvage. Noct’s back when he wakes up some unknown amount of time later and while he tries to apologize for taking up residency on his bed, his best friend just shakes his head and tells him he’s sorry for not noticing things sooner.

Prompto doesn’t understand.

Spero’s practically curled on his chest, a warm, comforting weight as light as she is.

Noct tells him to sleep.

So he does.

It’s late at night when his body finally decides it can’t sleep any more, overtaken by hunger that’s nothing new to wake to. The smell of something cooking, however, is, an incredibly delicious scent wafting into the room. His stomach growls like a feral beast, twisting in knots, and Prompto can’t recall when he’d last eaten, the past twenty-four hours a complete whirlwind of anguish, anxiety, and adrenaline. It takes far longer than it should to notice that he’s not even home or at the hospital, but at Noct’s place, in his bed and pajamas. It takes too damn long to realize he’s alone. Spero’s _gone_.

The cozy warmth of dozing in a soft bed is gone, slain by the icy dread piercing his frantic heart that beats in overtime as he whips the covers off in frenzied quest to find her. He doesn’t make it very far, colliding with a solid yet startled force in the doorway that yelps his name in surprise before catching him as he nearly keels over from impact.

“Was just about to wake you.” Noctis murmurs as he makes sure the blond’s steady, not helped by how he tries and fails to stand on his own in trying to push past him. “Easy, Prom. Hey, take it easy. You’re okay.”

“ _Sp’ro_.” He croaks, and by some blessing of the Six does Noct decipher what he means, or can easily put two and two together.

“Right over there at the table. C’mon, buddy, let’s get some food in you, too.”

The sight of baby sister does more to calm him than even a meal prepared by Ignis, sagging with relief at watching her swallow spoonfuls of chicken noodle soup by aid of the Advisor. Spero looks as tired as he feels, still pale with little button nose red, but perks up when big brother takes the seat closest to her.

“It would seem you’ve had my cooking before, hm, little one?” The comment is innocent enough as the child nods, Prompto momentarily freezing before taking a bite. He knows then, of all the times the Prince’s odd yet kind friend had requested to ‘take the meal for the road’ when staying late on some school project or another. “I take it this is to your liking as well?”

She nods once more, a sweet smile on her lips as the man smiles back with addition that he’d be more than happy to cook for her again. Prompto just bites his lip, worries how much this’ll cost him, that there’s gotta be a catch somewhere, but Ignis makes no other comments referring to the hundreds of observations and conclusions he came to while the siblings slept. Noct elbows him lightly in the ribs, nothing more than a gentle tap making him aware of spoon held limply in trembling grip.

“S’gonna get cold, Prom.”

He gulps before releasing abused lip between teeth, nodding a little nod before taking the first bite of real food he hasn’t had in far too long. They’re all eating, Spero’s eating, it’s _okay to eat_.

So he does.

It’s as though something out of a dream to be able to eat his fill without fear of running out, not with how Ignis dutifully stocks the cupboards. His stomach aches, unused to being full that he admittedly doesn’t eat as much as he probably could. It’s still late, after all, but both young men seem satisfied with what he does consume. Once all finished, the Advisor cleans the table up while Noct insists they’re free to take a bath. Gods, Prompto can’t even remember the last time he had anything other than a quick minute cold shower to wake up in the morning, baths a thing of the past back when he’d bathe a toddler Spero along with himself. She’s getting old enough to wash herself, and he wonders where the time went.

There’s not much left.

He should enjoy it while he can for Spero’s sake, creating lasting memories of her big brother to keep before separated forever.

* * *

 

“Bath time, bath time.” Prompto leans over the tub to get hot water running, testing the rising temperature with a hand. It feels heavenly already, skating the limb across the surface as it fills with bubbles squirted in. Satisfied, he then helps her out of her clothes before undressing himself, stepping in the porcelain tub first to safely sit at an end and stretch out before lifting her up in front of him. There’s just enough space for the two of them, Spero snug between knees and already leaning back against his chest.

“Hey, hey, don’t fall asleep, little chick.” He lightly pats her shoulder, admittedly a bit tempted to resume sleeping himself as he spies a rubber ducky between shampoo bottles. He’ll definitely have to tease Noct about it later, smiling softly as he grabs the bright yellow duck. “Now it’s time for teamwork. I make sure you don’t fall asleep, and you do the same for me, okay? There’s even a little buddy in here to help you out.”

Spero accepts the bathtime toy with a smile he doesn’t see, sleepily observing the little duckling bob up and down amongst the sea of bubbles. Prompto gets to work, lathering up a sponge to start washing her arms and back.

“Waking up here, I bet you were afraid, huh? Did Noct and Iggy scare you?”

“Just a little.” She admits. “But I ‘membered they’re your friends ‘cause you told me and showed pictures. They’re nice, just like you said.”

“Yeah, they’re kinda the greatest.” _I deserve them as much as I deserve you, kiddo._

“Pom?”

“Yeah, Spero?”

“Are we gonna go home?”

He freezes.

“Uh. Hm. Is. Is that what you want?”

“Nuh-uh. I like here.” She shakes her head and he finds himself able to breathe again.

“Yeah, yeah. Me too.” _I’d stay here forever if I could, with you and Noct and the rest the guys_. “If I hand you the sponge, can you get your legs and tummy for me so I can start washing myself?”

“Yep!”

“Don’t forget between your toes.”

“But that tickles!”

“Does it tickle like this?” Prompto playfully attacks her sides with crafty fingers causing her to shriek and giggle, bath water splashing everywhere and sending suds flying.

* * *

 

“Sounds like they’re having fun.” Noct murmurs, unable to hold back a tiny smile to laughter and splashing occuring behind bathroom door. Ignis refrains from making a comment of surely soaked floor, instead taking the time to replace bed sheets and run spare blankets through the dryer. Noctis follows him, lending a hand for once. “Hey, Specs?"

“You’re concerned about your friendship with Prompto.” The Advisor replies to the question before Prince can fumble his way through figuring out how to put it into words. Noct nods sheepishly.

“I just. I didn’t know he even has a sibling, y’know?  Friends tell eachother everything, don’t they? Does...Does that make me a bad friend? Like, he didn’t trust me or something?”

“If that were the case, do you believe Prompto would still be here?” Ignis asks in turn, keeping it to himself of how he’d known early on about the siblings after the very first moment Noct had let slip of the first friend he’d made. Thorough research into those interacting with his charge was part of the job description, if not also part curious of who brought the smile back to his face.

“Didn’t have a choice. You kinda kidnapped them from the hospital, remember?”

He visibly pauses, stuttering for a moment to adjust his glasses before starting the washer.

“Regardless of that, do you believe Prompto would have so easily allowed us to tend to his sister if that were true? I should think it obvious how dearly he cares for her.”

“Then why didn’t he tell us?” _Tell me?_

“I’ve come up with numerous explanations as to _why_.” The tone with which the man speaks is a subtle threat, a promise that will be getting to the bottom of this and Six have mercy on souls that don’t deserve it. Noct holds in a shiver, grateful to not be on the receiving end as well as relieved to know the Advisor will have it all under control.

The least he can do is be the very best friend Prompto trusts him to be.

He’s got a lot of work to do.

* * *

 

Ignis is gone by the time Prompto and Spero emerge from the bathroom squeaky clean and once again in spare clothing, Noct mentioning offhand that he’d some ‘business to attend to and will return come morning unless required’. The blond really doesn’t want to think what that could entail as traitorous imagination envisions the worst, distantly aware of little sister tugging at one of his arms towards the couch with a hefty pile of warmed blankets waiting for them. He takes a seat before lifting her up and onto his lap, pulling the fluffy fabrics to cover them both as she nuzzles in close.

“A little chocobo helped me make hot chocolate with extra marshmallows.” Noct delicately holds out the plush with one hand while balancing a tray of mugs with the other, small child reaching out with a wide, toothy smile. “Does the little chocobo have a name?”

“ _Mico_.” She answers shyly, hiding her face behind treasured toy once in her arms. Prompto bites his lip, uncertain where the urge to cry is coming from this time as she snuggles back against him as Noct smiles, all tender warmth.

“That’s a pretty good name. Does Mico like watching movies?”

Spero nods.

“Alright, here’s the remote. You can pick out whatever you wanna see - if that’s okay with your big brother.”

“Y-Yeah, anything kid-friendly is fine.” Prompto accepts the mug offered to him with a wobbly smile, setting it aside to grab Spero’s for her as she searches for favorite family film. “Is...Is that okay with you though? I mean, wouldn’t wanna bore you or anything.”

“Nothing about you is boring, Prom.” Noct promises, and he really wants to believe the honest sincerity in his quiet voice as Spero is successful in finding the coveted chocobo animated movie and soon oblivious to all else. “We meant what we said, y’know?”

He doesn’t know what they’ve said, what Noct means by that, but nods anyway with a bite of his lip before finally taking a sip of his own hot chocolate. Outside, the worst of the storm has passed, leaving nothing but a calming rain. Spero’s safe and happy and warm, and it’s all he can ask for. She coughs on occasion and he rubs her back as she snuggles comfortably against his chest. Prompto thinks he says something about making sure she has the next dose of medicine before bed, but Noct softly assures that Ignis gave it to her before dinner. What kind of a brother is he, to rely so heavily on his friends to look after her, but gods is he so, so grateful to even have friends like them.

Prompto leans to his right without meaning, as sleepy as the content child upon his lap. The side of his head connects with Noct’s left shoulder and he means to lift himself back up, he really does before Noct says something. But his best friend doesn’t say anything, not even as Spero ends up snug between the two of them with chocobo plush held loosely in arms limp with sleep.

A gentle arm hooks around his shoulders, pulling him further against comforting warmth that smells like Noctis and speaks in that tender tone that he really meant it, every word.

Prompto still doesn’t understand, has a feeling he still wouldn’t even if he knew.

Noct hums for him to rest.

So he does.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Friendship.

It’s late afternoon when Prompto finally wakes up again, peaceful awakening cut short when one eye peeks open to catch the time ticking away on the wall of a place he doesn’t remember. Surprisingly, that fact doesn’t disturb him as much as that he _slept in_. Prompto _never_ sleeps in. He _shouldn’t_ be. There’s school to be schooling, work to be working -- if he’s even employed still, and Gods knows he can’t afford to be missing any more shifts --, he can’t be sleeping in! Prompto rolls over to snap to his feet, soon finding himself on the floor from misjudged distance after falling off what’s not his bed, but instead a couch.

_Noct’s_ couch.

He’s in _Noct’s_ apartment.

In _Noct’s_ clothes, no less.

And there’s _Noct_ , best friend helplessly hovering over him before deciding to help the blond sit back up on the makeshift bed, except Prompto’s having none of it. He’s got to _go_ , they’ve both got to go to _school_ \--

“Prom, chill out. It’s Sunday. There’s no school on the weekends, thank the Six.”

While Prompto slowly processes that information, unable to compute for all the time he’s lost to sleep and memories’ crannies--what even happened to _Saturday--_ , Noct is gone and back with a glass of water and urging him to drink. It goes down cool on his strangely sore throat, but does nothing to ease the throbbing in his head. If it’s the weekend, he _should_ be at work. He sure as hell shouldn’t be having some kind of sleepover at Noct’s and leaving Spero to fend for herself--

He notices then, the lone chocobo plush left abandoned in the tangle of a blanket carefully draped over him from the night he can scarcely recall.

“W-Where’s Spero?” The tremor in his voice betrays how little he’s managing to keep composed before treasured best friend, fighting to keep down the second panic attack since waking but minutes ago. “Has she eaten? Had her medicine? Is she...Is she still sick?”

Noctis just stares at him, eyebrows creased into a dozen emotions he can’t decipher for all the bubbling anxiety about to boil over if he doesn’t answer in the next second as he takes a seat next to him.

“ _Noct!”_

“Her fever’s down and she’s doing alright. Specs came by this morning to check up on her, made sure she had breakfast and lunch and everything.” Noct explains hastily, not at all oblivious to how Prompto collapses back against the cushions like a puppet released from marionette strings, eyes closing shut with a relieved exhale taking the air out of him. “She kept worrying over you, so he took her with to go shopping for dinner and--shit, you’ve gotta eat, too. Hang on a sec, okay?”

Prompto obeys, only because he doesn’t think he can get up otherwise, but it’s okay because Spero’s okay. He listens to the refrigerator being opened, of dishes and silverware clinging and scraping, of the microwave beeping, and then Noct uttering a curse or six after a few minutes of the machine humming. Nothing smells burned, but Noct comes back holding a bowl with oven mitts and a warning that it’s hot and to blow on it before taking a bite. It’s a jumbled mess of scrambled eggs, diced peppers, sausage, and hashbrowns all mixed together presumably by the Princely disaster of a chef.

He can’t for the life of him recall when he’d mentioned his love of hot spice, but whenever it was, Ignis _remembered_.

Holding back tears and willing himself not to cry over that first bite when Noct’s watching him like a hesitant hawk, Prompto eats. His stomach is cramped full just from a few forkfuls and he doesn’t trust the queasy feeling in his gut to keep it all down if he takes any more. Handing the half-eaten bowl back over, the Prince just sets it aside on the small table before taking a seat next to him.

A moment of silence passes.

“Prom, I--”

“Hey, Noct--”

“Sorry, go ahead.”

“No, no, you were first.”

Another.

Whatever’s on Noct’s mind must really being bothering him to finally break the silence.

“I’m sorry.”

“What, uh, what for?” Prompto dares to ask out of curiosity because there’s nothing on Eos Noct could do wrong in his eyes and big enough to warrant an apology.

Noct doesn’t answer right away, back to being quiet and contemplative while retrieving Mico the chocobo plush with delicate hands. The blond can hazard a guess what he’s thinking about, mind wandering to that exact same conversation years ago in the arcade Prompto had only the luxury to visit thrice since then, and only to watch Noct play unless he shared his tokens.

“ _Dude, I gotta win that plush.”_

_“Aren’t you a little too old for toys?”_

_“Yeah, yeah. Just help me win it? Please?”_

_“Really can’t live without it, huh?”_

_“You have no idea.”_

And won it they had by combining hard earned tickets, Prompto singing his praises and declaring him his hero. It had felt nice then, even better the next day when the blond thanked him again with a wide smile and crushing hug. He’d expected the plush to make an appearance at least once at school or on rare nights when they’d study together at his apartment to show off to Ignis -- it made sense for how appreciative Prompto was and had let it be known how happy it’d made him. It never did despite his teases of having joint custody and once even made the (not) jealous remark that Prompto must care about it a lot more than him, never hanging out as much as they used to -- which, admittedly hadn’t been that often anyway, with Prompto’s super early curfews on top of the job he’d picked up.

He knows why now.

“Look, I’m not good...not good at this. At friendship and...and well, _words_.” Noct scratches the back of his neck with a hand, a nervous tic if Prompto’s ever seen one. “But I should’ve known better than to give you shit when I knew you had to work and look after Spero. I mean, I didn’t _know_ about her until a couple days ago, but that was still shitty of me. And I’ll do my best to be the best friend you deserve. So, uh, yeah. I’m sorry, really.”

“Noct, buddy, that’s not your fault at all. _I’m_ the one who should be sorry, I should’ve--”

“ _Prompto_.” Noct’s hand moves to rest on his shoulder, prompting him to look him in the eyes even though he lacks the confidence in word choice. He _needs_ to hear this. “Your sister is way more important than me. I get that, I _respect_ that. You don’t need to apologize for me being an asshole.”

“You’re not an asshole.” Prompto mumbles automatically by reflex before adding only because it’ll make Noct happy. “Apology accepted and all, but I really should’ve told you about her way before this, or like, brought her over with me or something. That’s shitty of _me_ , dude, so don’t think I’m letting you take all the blame on poor friendship.”

“So we’re both assholes?”

“That’s the spirit. I better not catch you saying that around Spero, though, or our friendship’s over.”

“Yeah, um, speaking of Spero.” The hand returns to needlessly itch at the back of his head. “The only other kid I’ve spent time with is Iris, so I really don’t know what I’m doing. Was last night okay, like the whole hot chocolate and a movie thing?”

He swears he hears Prompto mutter that makes two of them before coughing to clear his throat and hiding the wince.

“Dude, try ‘perfect’. I really, really appreciated it and I know she did, too. Thank you.” The big brother quells his worries with a tender smile, not quite meeting his eyes as fingers fiddle with his leather wristband, a nervous tic if Noct’s ever seen one. “Seriously, I. I owe you big time for letting us stay here and for Iggy looking after her. I don’t know how I’m ever going to repay you guys.”

“Don’t even worry about it. You two are free to stay here as long as you want, but.” _What about your mom and dad_ , Noct wants to ask. He should. Prompto’s dropped enough hints that both live very busy work lives and are never really home, apparent with how the boy acts more a parent than a sibling and proven by what he’d let slip at the hospital. Hell, even Iggy’s cool observation that the kid’s eaten his food before ever even knowing of her existence. He _should_ ask. The odds, however, of the blond giving him a straight answer are slim to none.

He loves Prompto, he really does, but Six does he hate that about him.

“But, um, what?” Prompto nervously licks dry lips with equally dry tongue. Noct should get him some more water, maybe steal him away into his own bed for real sleep instead of passing out on the couch. “Noct?”

“But were you, um, gonna finish that?” He quickly gestures to the forgotten bowl while mentally chastising himself for the worst deflection ever, moving to pick it up before Prompto can think of an equally awkward excuse. “How about I reheat it while you rest here and find something to watch until they get back? Shouldn’t be long.”

“Yeah, sure...” Prompto bites his lip as he watches Noct walk back into the kitchen area, stomach churning at the prospect of more food when the threat of throwing up is still present. Swallowing it down, he sets Mico on his lap while simultaneously reaching for the remote.

He’s been resting too much lately. Been wasting too much time. He shouldn’t even _be_ here to begin with -- not like he isn’t grateful for the help and how they’re so great with Spero, because Gods knows he’s as grateful as he is unworthy --, but sitting around doing nothing and not being allowed to repay their kindness doesn’t, well, sit well with Prompto. Sitting on his ass won’t pay the bills that’re stacking up and he’s outright terrified what the hospital’s going to charge when utilities still haven’t been paid for. The shut-off date is coming soon, he knows it is, a death sentence in the form of a red stamp screaming ‘PAST DUE’ followed by a letter explaining how much time he’s got left to pay before no electricity and running water.

If he can’t at least make the rent payment, they’re fucked.

If CPS finds them camping it out in a cardboard box at a street corner, it’s game over unless their parents bail them out. If Prompto’s honest with that selfish, bitter side of him, it’d be the first thing they ever did right, save for adopting his sweet baby sister.

They can’t go back home, but they can’t stay here. That’d be asking too much despite what Noct claimed otherwise. There’s no way he can’t _not_ worry when he’s struggling (and failing) to once again to keep his shit together, and what kind of person would want to keep a deadbeat like him as a friend then?

Nobody. Not even the greatest, bestest group of friends in the whole wide world.

Gods, Prompto’s head is killing him, abandoning the remote to nurse his forehead with both hands as if it’ll keep the migraine from busting out his skull. Has it always been so cold in Noct’s apartment? Or too hot? It’s difficult to tell which he’s feeling, only that he’s shivering from one or the other. Whatever it is, he can worry about it last.

Spero comes first.


End file.
